Crowley and the Plushies
by Sage Clover
Summary: Crowley would say this never happened. If it had, he would blame it entirely on the sidewalk sale of stuffed animals. He started out stealing (buying) a stuffed Moose. This strange infatuation only increased as time went by. This is your warning that Crowley cusses like, a lot.


This was a prompt fill for talkingtomyselfagain, aka: UmbraeCalamitas. It was edited by ThallenCambricaltran. (As will absolutely everything I ever write. She's been my best friend since she was a kindergartener and I was only a grade ahead of her. We're both in college now and I can't imagine what my life would have been like without her. It would be sad.) Yes, I did post this on AO3 under the user sageclover61. Yes, there is a link to the tumblr prompt if you go there. Yes, I did write this when I should have been editing the second chapter of Trickster's Haven.

* * *

Crowley would never ever admit it, but everything started on a perfectly normal summer day. He had just made a delicious deal with a homophobic bastard, and hadn't that been fun? So he was in a good mood and had decided to walk through the downtown area. And then there was that damn toy store. It must have been a sidewalk sale, and on that table there was a damn moose plushie. But it wasn't just a stupid moose plushie. All Crowley could see was Sam fucking Winchester

He would never admit it to anyone, least of all himself, but he picked it up. Not only did he keep it, but he also walked inside the store to pay for it. It was soft, and he liked how it felt in his hands.

"Isn't it adorable?" the teenager running the cash register asked as she scanned the barcode. "That one might be my favorite, although the giraffe is pretty fecking cute."

Crowley would deny the fact that he raised an eyebrow at her for the word. She merely pointed at a jar on the counter in way of explanation. It read, "This is the swear jar and you are in a child's toy store."

When Crowley got home, he put the the moose plushie on the shelf. It's beady black eyes were staring through him like it was trying to fucking emulate the affectionate expression of one of his hellhound puppies and it hurt . Not that he would admit that to anyone. Honestly, he tried to forget about it, but it was there .

It was a long week for Crowley. Some of the lowly plebeians thought uprising would end well for them. They were mistaken. Leaning back, he sipped from his tumbler of craig. That damn Moose was staring at him. "Yes, Moose. It has been a long week. The masses thought they should try burning yet another one of my properties. I am the king of Hell and if they think they can overthrow me so easily, they're going to end up very dead."

This was not the only time Crowley ranted to the Moose. And one day a few weeks later, he was back in the same town on a Saturday and he was walking by the same store. And there on display in the window were all these animal shaped plushies from the same enterprise that had made the Moose. It was not Crowley's intention to stop, and he would deny it for the rest of forever that he'd had any choice in the matter, but one of the animals he saw was clearly a squirrel and he needed it.

Crowley would deny this, but he entered the store and took the squirrel plushie to the register. The same teenager was behind the counter again, heavy text book in her lap. She looked up at him from over the top of her book. She grinned. "Hello again! Were you unable to get over how fecking adorable they are?"

Crowley scowled at her. She cackled, ringing the squirrel up. "You know, they're buy two get one free this week." He raised an eyebrow.

The teenager shrugged. "I remember you buying the moose one a few weeks ago, and I know this is a little unorthodox, but if you see one over there you want, you can have it."

"Sod-off," Crowley muttered.

Still grinning, the teenager pointed at the swear jar. "You're in a toy store. Pay up."

Crowley almost swore at her again, but stopped himself. Rolling eyes, he went to examine the shelf with the plushies. There was a corgi, and a horse, and an endless number of bears. But they weren't what he wanted. If he was going to have a Moose, and a Squirrel, then he also needed a Giraffe. It was only right.

The store didn't have any giraffe plushies of any size, let alone from the same company. He went back to the register after twenty minutes of looking.

"Didn't find what you were looking for?" the teenager asked.

Fucking Winchesters. Crowley shook his head and paid for the squirrel with a twenty dollar bill. He put the change in the swear jar. He would pretend for the rest of eternity that he had never met her.

When Crowley got home, he put the Squirrel on the same shelf with the Moose. "Fucking Winchesters," he swore again. He reclined with a tumblr of Craig. "Being the King of Hell, it's not always as cool as one would think it ought to be. The demon masses are such a bitch to control. It's all anarchy all the time. But what does one expect? They're demons."

The stuffies' beady eyes looked on in silence, but he didn't need them to answer. Why was he even talking to them? They were just soft fabric stuffed with something to give them a vague semblance of life. It wasn't even taxidermy, which Crowley thought might be just slightly better.

A few weeks later found Crowley in the same town at a different store looking for a giraffe. He did not have something for each of the Winchesters and he was not going to get something for the idiot angel. Or so he told himself, even as he ranted at them frequently. He did not care about the Winchesters, they were just two people he hated more than any others.

"Are you having any trouble finding what you're looking for?" The feminine voice came from behind him.

He turned. It was the fucking teenager from the fucking toy store. She looked about the same as she always did, except she was also wearing an apron that designated her as an employee here as well.

She grinned at him. "I thought I told you a few weeks ago that if you wanted another plushie you could have it for free, since they were on sale. Or is this a new desire?"

Crawley swallowed. "There wasn't a giraffe," he mumbled. Why was he admitting this? To her?

If possible, the teenager's grin only increased. "I told you, that's my favorite, didn't I? I think I can find one for you. Wait here, I'll be right back."

Crowley would never be capable of explaining why, but he waited. And she returned with a giraffe plushie. "Is this what you were looking for?" she asked.

"Yes," Crowley replied.

"They only sell this one online anymore, I don't know why," she said. "You can have this one, it's mine."

Crowley blinked. "Why?"

"You didn't get your free plushie because they didn't have this one and I felt kind of bad about it. Besides, that tip you left was large enough to cover the cost of replacing it and I think you need this more than I do right now. Take it."

Crowley took the toy from her. It was a nice gesture and he was hardly going to say no. Even if he would never admit this ever happened. She even hugged him for fucks sake when he took it. "I hope you don't mind," she said.

When Crowley glared at her, she backed away. "Alright, alright. I shouldn't have done that. Still, enjoy the giraffe." She turned on a polished heel and walked away.

One very confused Crowley went home. He put the giraffe up on the same shelf as the Moose and the Squirrel. "One complete set," he said as he sat back with yet another tumblr of Craig in his hand.

"Bloody Hell," Crowley snarled into his empty tumbler. They were staring at him in such a lifelike manner, even though he knew they were just children's toys. "I don't even like you fucking Winchesters, why the Hell are you staring at me?" He threw the tumbler at the wall above the plushies, shattering it. The shelf rattled but the toys were undisturbed, with just the shimmer of their black eyes drilling into him offering any sign of motion. "What the Hell are you looking at? You're plushies made to look like animals. I can talk to you if I want to, but the Winchesters are nothing but a pain in my ass and I don't like them. And the three of you, you don't get to repeat a word of this. Your listening ears are mine." And with that, he sat down to pour himself another drink.


End file.
